


Depraved

by bullet (teii)



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Bloody Kisses, Fight Club mentality, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teii/pseuds/bullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want you to hit me.”</p><p>Octavius tries, but there was no hiding the revulsion on his face at the thought of hurting the cowboy. Desperately, he looks for any signs that this is all just some elaborate joke that Jedediah is springing on him. Just for a laugh. Nothing more.</p><p>But the cowboy doesn't seem like laughing any time soon as he wrings his hands, eyes pleading.</p><p>“Please, for old time's sake?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Depraved

  
_We used to be friends, we used to be innocent;  
I don't understand, what have I become to you?_

 

There’s something wrong with Jedediah.

Octavius, in another time, would have asked exactly what was bothering the man, but years of what in hindsight were unnecessary arguments and entire nights of stonewalling told him that it’d be best to wait and let the cowboy open up than hound him for answers, even if it did meant having to put up with his sulking for what may be days or even weeks on end.

So he goes off, with other duties in mind. It was on a regular night, in front of the information desk’s computer as they logged into Nicky’s Steam account to play a bout of XCOM: Enemy Unknown. With the Romans having no adversaries to fight given the longstanding peace between them and the cowboys, they now wholeheartedly poured their strategic tactics and warfare prowess into beating back the alien menace. The entire army, still in their rigid lines, yelled out to their harried comrades on keyboard duty their suggestions on how to advance. Several of the cowboys joined in, clashing with the strict and pragmatic Romans for more bombastic and showy attacks.

“More grenades! Blast ‘em suckers all sky high!” an Old West miner yelled, waving his prized stick of dynamite enthusiastically in the air.

“Fool!” A roman soldier shouts back, “What good would it do, if it will take out our comrade along with the enemy?”

Octavius was to the side, in a heated discussion with a Senate member on the benefits and drawbacks of having their French Heavy falling back for medical aide or surging forward to eliminate the threat that Jedediah finally decides to show up.

The cowboy looks on with mild interest at the squabbling and general ruckus by Octavius' men, and the General is about to step in to calm his soldiers, before Jedediah catches his arm and pulls him within whispering range.

"Y'got time for a drive?"

Octavius frowns at the hard grip Jedediah has around his elbow, but he nods, "of course."

“C’mon then.”

There’s a suffocating atmosphere in the car, smothering any potential for a conversation. Octavius twists his head to look over at Jedediah, though he’s staring dead ahead, eyes hard and mouth twisted into an unfamiliar somber frown. Octavius gives up in the end, looking out the window instead as they race past the museum’s exhibits.

They drove clear across the museum, until they reached a quiet, desolate corner behind a potted plant.

Octavius steps out of the car, waiting for the cowboy to do the same before demanding an explanation.

“What is it, Jedediah?”

Jedediah rocks on his heels, looking off to the side. Takes a deep breath.

“I want you to hit me.”

Octavius tries, but there was no hiding the revulsion on his face at the thought of hurting the cowboy. Desperately, he looks for any signs that this is all just some elaborate joke that Jedediah is springing on him. Just for a laugh. Nothing more.

But the cowboy doesn't seem like laughing any time soon as he wrings his hands, eyes pleading.

“Please, for old time's sake?”

“What….brought all this on?” Octavius splutters incredulously. “Is this a declaration of war? Is peace that dull to you that you wish to embroil our respective empires into yet another futile war?” 

Jedediah put his hands out in front of him, shaking his head emphatically, “Woah, woah, hold on there. It ain’t like that. It’s just-- I’ve been feeling….there’s this _itch_. An’ I can’t scratch it.. It’s been crawlin’ up and down-- all over me for the past few months. Never flared up like this before.”

Octavius puffs out a sigh of sympathy. “Rather than me having to possibly come in contact with you and catch this contagion, surely we can find you a long enough stick for you to--”

Jedediah is rapidly losing his cool, clawing at his bangs in frustration. “Oh fer crying out loud, that was _metaphorical_!”

Octavius frowns, “Meaning…?”

“It’s deeper than jes a skin problem. It’s in me. And it’s not letting go. I didn’t think it’d be all that kind of me to drag all of our boys back into war just to satisfy this...predilection of mine. That’s why I need you.”

“Would no one else do?” Octavius asks, feeling both touched and wary that Jedediah would come to him about this peculiar predicament.

Jedediah rakes a hand through his hair, sighing. “The ol’ saloon brawl’s been going out of style, now that Mulligan’s been threatening’ a life-long ban if any of us even have the slightest bit of mal-intent brewing in our heads."

“And none in your diorama was willing….”

“My only long-term sparrin’ partner was you, ‘Tay. And goddamn do I miss it,” he breathes, as if holding the General to some shameful secret.

A sense of revulsion runs its course through Octavius very much the same way the shock did, of the damage he’s capable of bringing down on his very best friend-- the power, the permission to hurt him, with no strings attached was nothing short of ghastly. But this is what his friend wanted, right? He could do this-- for Jedediah. Jedediah needed _him_. Went to _him_ about this. Trusted _him_ , and no one else. He could not betray that trust so easily or abandon the cowboy in his time of need. There’s a bitterness threatening to take over him, the cold, aching dread knowing that Jedediah does not see him as someone to provide comfort in a more conventional sense, but he pushes all of that down. This was no time for wallowing in self-pity. Jedediah has specific needs. And Octavius Gaius would do his best to meet them.

Reluctantly he steps closer, and with Jedediah's safety in mind, shucks off his arm bracers and helmet. Another few moments of deliberation passes, and the armor joins the pile as well, leaving him with only his tunic covering his chest.

Gone are the thoughts he had back when he fought Jedediah and the cowboys for the glory of Rome and the thrill of conquest, head buzzing with battle formations and war tactics. Instead, he’s thinking exactly how to fight, not to win, but to satisfy Jedediah and still keep him within good health. It would not do to damage his friend any more than necessary. He’s worried, worried for the both of them, and his palms are noticeably more sweaty, as he drags himself forward and swings softly.

But Jedediah simply steps out of the way, moving with a grace that Octavius has never had the pleasure to see back when they fought night after night. A hard swing at his face slams him back into reality, and he stumbles, a hand clasped over his smarting cheek, as he stares up aghast, not believing that Jedediah actually….

“That all you got for me, Tav’us?” Jedediah taunts, relying on muscle memory and experience to easily block the fist aimed at his face. “Anything new you got up your sleeve or am I gonna spend the rest of the night just workin’ on boxing maneuvers?” he sighs, shrugging his shoulders as he continues bouncing lightly on his feet. “Maybe I really should’ve found some other jack ta wrangle with if you were gonna go all limp on me, boy.”

Something in Octavius snapped at that last bit. Mild annoyance gave way to blinding anger. His vision tunnels, only seeing the infuriating grin on Jedediah’s face and nothing else. The old, familiar feeling of rage flares up in him, seeping into him, drowning out the last bit of common sense. 

Now, it was personal.

With a cry, he leaps forward, hurtling towards Jedediah and slams him flat onto the ground, and drives a hard knee into the man’s groin.

Jedediah yelps a few octaves higher than his usual register, and wildly pushes at Octavius to buck him off, “that’s...that’s CHEATIN’,” he snarls, though the very tail-end of the sentence spirals into a breathless groan of pain.

“When fighting a barbarian,” Octavius sneers down at him, relishing the way Jedediah squirms pathetically underneath him, “one can do much with a little bit of ingenuity against their brutish ways.”

“You sunnava…” Jedediah spits, using his left hand to grab a fistful of Octavius’ tunic to haul him in, and curls his right into a fist, clocks him right in between the eyes.

Octavius’ vision blurs slightly, and he sways trying to orient himself, but does his best to tilt forward in an effort to keep Jedediah caged underneath him.

But Jedediah easily throws him off, and climbs on top of the General,, flippantly backhanding him, laughing all the while. “That ingenoo-ity doesn’t seem to be coming to yer rescue, friend.”

Octavius doesn’t reply, but grapples Jedediah’s shoulder, looping an arm around his neck, and turning far enough to shove Jedediah face-first onto the marble, holding down with a hard grip around the back of his neck. Jedediah rolls to his side, and his nose is a mess of blood and even more crooked than before, but there's nothing but a maniacal grin adorning his face as he scrambles off the floor and launches himself at Octavius.

They exchange blow after blow, and Octavius loses himself in the rythmn, the familarity of being connected to Jedediah through fists as they never gain a true advantage over each other. But Jedediah laughs nonetheless, whooping and cheering in between jabs and kicks, and somewhere along it all, he gets the thought in mind to grab Octavius’s face and pull him in close enough to ram their lips together in a crude facsimile of a kiss.

Octavius grimaces into the blood-soaked kiss, but it’s made very clear to him that Jedediah’s not willing to let go anytime soon as he wraps a hand around the back of Octavius’ head and moans into Octavius’ mouth. the stench of iron and bitter-sharp tang of blood clouding his senses. Octavius gives it back twice as hard, losing himself in the feel of Jedediah’s teeth worrying his bottom lip and the hedonistic mess of limbs as their legs tangle together and Octavius wraps his hands around Jedediah's waist. The hard grip on his shoulder anchors him to stay on top of Jedediah. All the while, Octavius can feel the burn of Jedediah’s stubble on his upper lip and chin, abrasive and cutting. It's only when Jedediah arches up to meld against Octavius that the centurion hastily shoves him away and plants an extra elbow to Jedediah's stomach before the cowboy finally lets go. The general hastily wipes his mouth, unwittingly smearing the blood across his cheek as he pants hard-- gasping, choking as he paints Jedediah’s vest with flecks of blood and spit.

But all that comes out from Jedediah is an exceedingly dreamy and satisfied, “ _damn_ ” as he lays sprawled out on the floor with an arm covering his eyes and a blissed out smile on his face. Octavius looks down at his knuckles, all red and raw, and it shames Octavius that it gives him no small pleasure to see all the darkening bruises and fresh cuts along Jedediah’s skin. Thinking that he’s never looked more bewitching than he did at this moment. _I did that,_ he thinks, petty anger and lust burning right through him, _I am the only one that can ruin him like this._

But the haze of satisfaction does not last for long. The adrenaline peters out, and in its place, an ache takes over his bones, and his shoulders sag in exhaustion. He’s breathing ragged, and he limps off, towards the car. He leans against the side, and takes in his own reflection, his mirror image a mess of darkening bruises, blood, and a particularly nasty black eye.

“Where’d ya think you’re going, sweetums,” Jedediah lightly mocks, coming up from behind him as he stumbles forward and all but throws himself at Octavius, giggling madly against the man’s ear. And Octavius doesn’t even suppress a hard shudder at the hot breath coasting along the side of his face and down his neck.

“That was…..fun.” Jedediah decides on.

But fun wasn’t the problem. “Was it satisfactory?” Octavius cautiously asks.

“Huh? Oh, oh yeah. Uh, sure. It was great.” Jedediah nods, but he turns away, and leaves Octavius leaning against the car door alone as he staggers his way towards the driver seat. “We ain’t got much time, we’ll need to mosey on back to the Hall if we wanna make it there before sun up.”

Octavius pauses, but climbs into the vehicle. The playful mood Jedediah was in evaporates instantly, and an uneasy gloom takes its place, as Jedediah pulls the car in reverse and speeds out of the corner without a word. It’s not until they get back that Jedediah catches Octavius’ hand again.

“You...y’think we can keep this all under wraps?”

A wave of protest bubbles up in Octavius, but he merely nods stiffly, unable to look Jedediah in the eye. "Of course."

Jedediah relaxes considerably, and flashes him a small smile. “‘Morning.”

“Good morning,” Octavius echoes quietly as he watches the car speed off.

Ashamed. Jedediah was ashamed. _Of him._

He...he didn’t think this is how it would happen. He swallows, the taste of Jedediah’s blood still in his mouth, and he spits vengefully. All his fantasies about their first kiss transpired under moonlight or were bathed in the faint glow of dawn. It would be subtle, chaste, quiet. Not fueled by an intoxicating rush of pain and guilt. Not covered up by regret and shame.

His mind is a storm of hurt and disappointment, and he barely registers his battalion as they swarm him, their shouts overlapping one another. “My liege, what happened?” “Shall we send for the healer?” “General, are you feeling alright?” His soldiers dogs his step as their worried cries chased after him.

But he ignores them all, as he assumes position in front of his archers, raising his sword high and silently begs Venus to have mercy on his heart.

\--

He does not come to find him.

Jedediah is once more ignoring Octavius. Logical, of course. A single glance to the two of them in the same room in their battered states would be more than enough to launch off a wildfire of rumors, and Octavius tries to honor his promise by busying himself with Senate affairs and little else, lest he leaves the diorama and feel inclined to peer up into the Western diorama next door.

But the bruises fade after a few days, and no longer does his sides ache, and still no sign of Jedediah. Flutters of trepidation haunt him, visions of Jedediah lying unresponsive in the sick bay as a victim of Octavius’ mindless belligerency. He almost asks Larry to check in on the cowboy in his stead, but in the end decided not to, trusting Jedediah to find him when he feels up for it.

It’s only after an entire month goes by that Octavius finally has enough, and storms his way over to the Western diorama, and finding the first denizen, roughly grabs him by the shoulder, turning him around.

“I wish to know where Jedediah is.”

The cowboy shrugs, trying to not look rattled as he adjusts his hat to cover his shifting eyes. “Haven’t seen ‘im around, sorry t’say. We all figured he’d be with you, like he usually is.”

Octavius is almost insulted by just how badly the man is lying to him, but knows Jedediah has more than likely has a hand in this silence. Instead, he turns and makes his way out of the Western diorama once more.

He is patient. He will wait. He has forever, after all.

\--

As it turns out, he is not as patient as he expected.

“Now hold on, Mr. General,” Mulligan blusters in an attempt to pacify Octavius who has come back the very next day, “I get that you’re looking out for Ol’ Jed, I really do. But he’s now my best customer, and I can’t have you swooping in and taking half of my revenue from under my nose, I’m this close to being able to buy actual hop juice-- hey!” Octavius doesn’t wait for the man to finish his spiel before he shoves the barkeep aside and heads up to the second floor, until he gets all the way down the hall, and bangs open the door.

“I said t'put it in tha corner, Mully!” Jedediah slurs, a bottle in hand, and an arm over his eyes. The room is a mess, not that Jedediah was the cleanest person Octavius has ever met, but even for the careless cowboy, this was a disaster. Octavius avoids the small hill of broken bottles by the bed, and with both hands, hauls Jedediah up off the musty, stained bed by his vest, shaking him slightly.

“So this is where you have been cowering, is that right? Hiding away and wasting night after night, drinking this--” he takes a whiff of the cowboy’s breath and pulls back in disgust, “putrid swill?”

Jedediah winces at the sudden movement, eyes squeezed shut in pain, “Gah...not so loud….”

Octavius shakes him again, “Shape up, man, this is not becoming of you!”

“An’ what do you know about that?” Jedediah spits back, teeth bared in a snarl.

"Plenty."

Jedediah sighs explosively, adamantly not looking at the Roman.

Octavius remains undeterred, “I have not told a soul about what transpired that night. Once I swear to an oath, I keep to them. And yet, I find you, pathetic and wasting away with drink in hand, and I begin to question the validity of handing over my trust to you.”

"Well, that's yer problem, right there, slick," Jedediah slurs, "should've never tangled with me in the first place."

"What is that supposed to mean." Octavius demands.

“I mean-- well, that is to say, y’know, I just--”

“Out with it,” Octavius snaps.

"No."

Octavius can't believe his ears. “You’re a coward, you let shame dictate your actions when here I thought you were the adventurous one.”

“Look, ok, fine, I _am_ a gaddamn coward, I’m the yellow-bellied-est sack of lowlife from here to Timbuktu. Yer right and I’m wronger than a tutu on a horseshoe crab. Happy?”

"Not in the slightest."

All the fight rushes out of Jedediah, and he lowers his head. “You....you didn’t deserve what I did to you.”

“Then what exactly, pray tell, do I deserve?”

“Not to be wailed on? Not to have someone kicking you around for th’fun of it? There’s a word out there for folks like me, and that word’s _depraved_.”

“I quite like to believe I held my own during that altercation,” Octavius huffs, while Jedediah shakes his head.

“That ain’t it, I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have asked ya to do that for me. I can hardly believe we went through with it. I...I can't believe I had the gumption to hurt you like that.”

Octavius lowers his arms, letting go of Jedediah to allow the man to sit upright on the bed. “How did it make you feel?”

“Pardon?”

“The fighting, what did you feel?”

Jedediah looks away, but Octavius catches his shoulder, pulling him back. "Please."

Jedediah swallows heavily. “Like everything made sense for once. Like I was in control of my own destiny. Like I was _real_.”

Octavius takes a seat on the bed beside Jedediah. Unballs the cowboy’s fists until they were lacing fingers together.

“You are not depraved, Jedediah Smith.”

“What?”

“You live off of wild escapades and the thrill of danger. Complacency would kill a man like you." Octavius explains.

Jedediah doesn't reply, but instead holds Octavius' hand in a death grip, as his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorr--"

“No, it’s just…" Jedediah whispers, his voice watery and burbling, but lighter than it has ever been, "I just-- thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Octavius softly replies, and falls silent, sitting beside the cowboy for the whole night.

\--

In time, Octavius introduces Jedediah to Roman wrestling, and the cowboy takes to the sport like a fish to water. In time, he is fit enough to even take on some of Octavius’ men, and Jedediah revels in the fight, celebrating every victory with Octavius by his side.

But some nights, they take the car and drive out to the corner, where they kiss with teeth clacking and nails digging into skin. Leaving hard bruises and bite marks recklessly all over each other's bodies.

And they pull back, breathless and grinning, knocking foreheads together.

Octavius was never going to get his peaceful moonlight kiss or experience a warm daybreak embrace.

But he has this. And in the darkness of their little corner, it was everything he never knew he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> [Perturbator's tracks](https://soundcloud.com/perturbator/perturbator-she-is-young-she-is-beautiful-she-is-next) are the perfect thing to play in the background while you're writing out fight scenes. Swear to god I've never written so fast in my life.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! :)


End file.
